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Makeshift Spartan
Posted By: Dracc<dwardornar@hotmail.com>
Date: 30 December 2005, 2:43 pm
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Jason had always been bigger than alot of people. It was something he was used to. He was fourteen pounds at birth, and a month and half premature to boot. Growing up, the family motto was, "Give Jason two." Didn't matter what it was, he always got more than his siblings. Not that they minded, because what they lost at the dinner table, they gained at school, and on the streets. Protection. Nobody messed with Jason. And if they were with him, they were invincible.
That's what he had always been, invincible. But now he felt much different. He felt mortal, and weak, and small even. His mouth was dry, and acrid smoke wafted through the alley. He inhaled slowly, ignoring the choking feeling, and rocked back on his haunches. He was big, but the corpse that lay sprawled at his feet was huge.
Jason had joined the UNSC when he turned nineteen, and was now twenty three. Four years in the military has taught him alot of things, and dealing with death was one of the first things you learned during wartime. His bunkmate had died during basic training. Collapsed on the drill field. They said it was from a heart condition he had had since birth. Jason never did figure out how Sean had gottet into the Marines with an irregular heart beat. But that didn't matter. He was dead.
Sean was dead, and Jason was alive, and the creature laying at his feat was dead. The streets were dead, and the trees on the street corner were alive, and the air was dead. Jason laid his rifle on the ground, and reached into his vest pocket. He pulled a piece of microfiber cloth out, and used it to wipe his hands. The rag came away stained with blood.
The same blood that leaked slowly from the tear in the black material the corpse was wearing. Black blood. The liver had been punctured, and maybe the left kidney. Asside from that, there were no other signs of injury. The blood trickled now, but the body was covered in it, showing how rapidly the fluid had sprung from the wound. There was some sealent foam still clinging to the strange material of the undersuit. Jason touched the foam, and found it was similar, but tougher than stuff that was holding his own wound closed.
The sky was red now, but not because the sun was setting. The sky was always red on Earth. It had started slowly, turning from a deep azure blue to a pale cyan. Then it stayed a sea grean for a while. Now, with the massive interplanetary travel, jet exhaust from orbital launchers had stained it a deep crimson. They were burning fossil fules from planets all over the galaxy. But Earth was still home.
Jason's mind threatened to wander. He realized he was starting to experience the onset of shock. He couldn't stop thinking about the clouds, and rocket engines, and MAC guns. He shook his head. Maybe that smoke was getting to him. He again turned his attention to the body laying before him. As strange as he found the black undersuit, the armor that was wrapped around the body was even more interesting.
Even in the red light, it shone with a deep green hue. But when he looked directly at it, it almost seemed brown. In some places the plates turned all shades of green, brown, grey, and even a few colors whos names did not come instantly to Jason's head. It was beautiful. The plates were marred by deep pits and ridges, where the warrior's blood had pooled. The shoulder piece looked as though it had been scraped bare of its color, and was chipped around the edges. It still shone with an eerie magnificance. He knew who this was, or at least what it was.
It was a rumor. Everyone knew that. They talked about them like you might a soap opera, or animated characters. They were out there, but they weren't real. The UNSC openly admitted the program existed, but never showed any proof. Stories trickeled in from the outer planets, but nobody ever seemed to have a picture or video of them. They were ghosts. The body that laid before Jason was a ghost.
Spartan. The name was derived from the greatest warriors in Earth history, though none of them were from Earth itself. Jason had no idea what planet the Spartan laying before him came from, but here it was on Earth, defending humanity from the Covenent Horde.
Jason rocked forward onto his knees and crawled toward the head of the Spartan. The gold faceplate stared back at him, warping his reflection. He reached out and grabbed it between his hands and tried to pull it free. It barely moved, and the Spartan's head seemed heavy in his heads, Like it was resisting him. He reached under the faceplate and searched the neck with his fingers. He found a small valve, and turned it. There was a loud hiss followed by a pop. He pried the helmet back, and the undersuit peeled away from a seam he had not been able to see before. Black blood dripped onto his hands as he continued to pull the helmet free.
The face below it was emtionless. Jason had seen hundreds of dead soldiers, and everyone of them had some sort of look on their face. Pain. Loss. Joy. Release. But this face was blank. Blood stained the dark skin where it had flowed from the man's thick lips. His eyes were dark to the point of being black, and the whites of his eyes had turned red. There was no hair anywhere on his face or head. It was impossible to tell how old he was. The skin was smooth like silk, and showed no signs of wrinkles.
Jason felt sick. His mind was racing, and he found his breathing was becoming more and more laboured. "No. No. You can't die! You're invincible," his voice dropped to a whisper, "Wake up. Wake up. Please, you have to help us. You have to protect us!" He was talking to himself, not the dead Spartan. His head dropped to his chest, which heaved with light convulsions.
He sat their for a long while shaking in some sort of tearless sob. He was getting cold. The helmet lay beside him flashing from within, and he could hear a tinny sound coming from it. He looked at it for a moment, then held it up and peered inside. Their were all sorts of readouts flashing across the HUD, and sound persisted in an urgent pattern. He looked around for the rag he had used earlier, and found it just within reach. Reach. The mere thought of the word made him shudder. He had friends on Reach. Had had.
Jason wiped in the inside of the helmet with the cloth, clearing as much of the blood from the screen as he could. He took a breath, and then slid the helmet, which was like a dead weight in his hands, firmly over his head. His ears were asaulted with the near frantic urges of a female voice.
"Hello? Hello? Can you hear me?" The voice was too clear to be coming from a radio source, and the it sounded modulated, like an... "Hello? Hello? Answer me!"
The direct order broke into Jason's clouded mind. He responded, "Yes. I can hear you. Who..."
"Listen to me. You're injured, and you will die soon if you don't follow my orders. Not that I mind so much, its just that I need you to get me out of here, and fast."
Jason didn't even hesitate, "Yes sir. Ma'am!"
"Good. Start removing the gloves from the Chief."
"Who?"
The voice didn't respond as immediately as before, and when it did return, it sounded different. Almost sad. Almost. "The man who's helmet you're wearing. Take off his gloves."
Jason grabbed the Spartan's arm, and pulled it into his lap, and searched for the relase to break the seal. When he turned it over to look at the wrist, blue circles flashed on the Hud.
"There. Put your finger into that seam, and run it around the wrist. That will release the seal," came the voice inside the helmet.
Jason did as he was instructed, and felt the strange undersuit release as he ran his finger around the unseen seam. He crawled over the body, and did the same to the right arm.
"Alright, now you have to remove the boots. There are pressure points just underneath the lower shin plating. That will deactive the seal, and they should slide off. Wait! Alright, magnetic grip is released. Go ahead."
Jason resituated himself at the feat of the fallen Spartan, and reached his fingers in to find the realeases. A simple click, and he was able to pull the heavy plated boots free. The lining still made it difficult, as it seemed to be glued to the skin. Jason shuddered as he touched the cold feet of the man, but managed to work the second boot off as well.
"Alright, now what?" he asked.
"This is the tricky part. We need to break the seal around the torso. To do this, you have to hit the releases on the back of the armor. Do you think you can roll him over?" Something in the way she said 'him.'
"I think so."
Even if he had not been injured, Jason would have had trouble rolling the man over. The voice in the helmet told him that he weighed somewhere around two tons. Minus the gloves boots and helmets, it was somewhat less. Jason put his shoulder under the ribs of the Spartan, and found purchase where the chest plate ended. He pushed until he thought his muscles where going to tear from his bones. The wound on his side ached, and blood ran from the edges of the biofoam. But the body moved, and slowly, Jason managed to roll him onto his side.
"Stop! If he rolls over onto his stomach, you won't be able to roll him back over again. Alright, here are the releases for the torso." The voice seemed even more urgent than before. Jason realized why when he saw a readout of his heart rate on the bottom left of the HUD. As soon as he looked at it, it blinked out, and was replaced by a marquee random coordinates.
He ignored it, and focused on the back of the armor where four more circles lit up around the release plates. He pressed them in the order they were numbered, and heard a strange hum, then stepped crawled away as directed. The chest piece and back plate fell away, tearing the undersuit with the same thin seams as the other joints. The plates crashed against the street with a dull thud which threatened to crack the very pavement.
"Almost done. Now we just have to get him out of there. It should be easier now, so roll him back over," the voice was sounding less and less stern.
Jason found it indeed easier to move the man now, and rolled him back onto his back, and rested his torson on the back plate which had fallen right where it had been laying before. Without even waiting for orders, Jason looked at the shoulder joint, and found the releases, once again circled on the screen in front of his eyes. He pulled the arm free, which was easier than he had thought it might be. He freed the other arm before the voice sounded again.
"O.K. Now I want you to put those on. They have some power stored in them, even when disconnnected from the microreactor."
"Why didn't I do this first?" asked a dismayed Jason.
"Can't. The seals won't release until the torso is disconnected. The suit was never meant to be taken of horizontaly." That answered that.
Jason pulled the left arm on, as the voice cautioned him about how any movement he made while wearing the armor would be amplified, and was potentially very dangerous. He got the left arm on first, and found that putting on the right was much easier. He was scolded once when the voice infrormed him he was applying too much grip.
"Alright, now you need to pull him out of the lower part of the suit. It is heavier than he is, so you should be able to apply direct force." Jason couldn't help but notice that she still put some strange sound in her voice when she said 'he.'
He manuevered behind the body, and locked around the Spartan's arms from behind in some modified hold, and used his own weaight to pull the man free by falling backwards and pushing out with his legs. Just as predicted, the heavy armored leggings stayed in place, and Jason lay there with a naked corpse on top of him. He gasped for breath, and even with the added stregth of his augmented arms, he felt exerted from all of the pulling and tugging.
"Alright, lets get moving, I can't help you until you get the suit all the way on, and then you can start helping me." Jason nodded, hoping that would translated to the AI that had been guiding him along. The voice continued, "You're going to have to move him off of the back plate." There was a pause, "Please be careful."
Jason freed himself from the weight of the man, which was formiddable by itself, and squatted next to him, a position which pained him greatly. The biofoam had started to degrade, and blood was now soaking through his vest. Still, he lifted the man, trying to bare all of the weight with his arms. He set the naked form on the walk, and returned to the suit.
"Now, you'll have to strip in order to don the armor." This wasn't an akward command, as Marines were often forced to strip for whatever reasons, and men and women were treated equally in this. In the UNSC, you had no sex. Which he thought ironic, because the voice in the helmet didn't really have a sex either.
"We're all just equipment, aren't we?" He said it aloud, but hadn't meant to.
"That's right, and right now, you're mine, so get your ass in there."
Jason striped. Tthe evening air tickled his skin, and the edges of his wound. He layed back on the backplate and swung his legs over, and started threading his feet into the armored legs. As he entered deeper, he had to point his toes downward to fit through the tight opening at the bottom. He stopped several times to catch his breath. Finally, he slid in up to his waist, and felt the undersuit tighten around his groin, and yelped.
"It's alright, thats normal. The suit is conforming to your body, and right about now, it will autoinsert a catheter." Jason didn't like the sound of the last part.
He felt the tube, and a slight pressure, and then it was over. His whole body unclenched, and he relaxed. The voice let him lay there a moment before barking his next order.
"Now, you're going to need the gloves. Can you reach them?"
He could, but just barely. He slipped his hands in, and the seal reconnected to the arms. He carefully flexed his hands. "Alright. Done"
"Ok, now you should be able to lift the chest plate into place, but you'll have to remove the helmet, so listen carefully. Once the chest is on you, you'll have to guide it into the receptors on the back plate. You can't rest it on your chest, because it will crush you. Make sure you hit the receptors. Got it?" The voice was so human. He couldn't believe it wasn't real.
He pulled the helmet off, and took in a deep breath. He rolled on his side so he could grip the chest piece with both arms, and lifted up and brought it over his bare chest. He slowly lowered it, and blindly guided the plate down, trying to find the receptors. He heard a slight scrape of metal on metal, and kept lowering the plate until it was nearly flush with his chest. Here it stopped, and the hum started again. He let go, and the plate stayed suspended. He sighed with relief, and put the helmet back on.
The voice was already telling him the next step, "Carefully, and slowly sit up."
As jason raised himself into position, he saw the HUD flash two messages: Sealant Critically low, Biofoam Low. He felt the cold sensation of biofoam filling in around his wound, and the biofoam readout changed to criticaly low. The helmet began sealing to the torso, and when it finished, he was directed to close the valve under the faceplate so the helm could be pressurized.
"The extra biofoam should hold, and I'll pump pure O2 into the helm. Should get you stabilized until we can get to a medical facility."
"Next, boots. Same as the chest piece. You'll have to guide them into the receptors or you won't be able to support the suit."
Jason pulled the boots on, careful to get the guides lined up.
"Lets see if you can stand. Remember, no sudden movements, and if I tell you to stop, freeze."
Jason pulled his knees up and rocked forward to gain his balance. He lifted his pelvis up, and pushed back with his arms, throwing himself forard. he caught himself just before his face would have slammed into the pavement. He had flipped onto his stomach.
"Risky, but nice work. Now, up."
He stood, and the AI told him how to reseal the torso, and seal the arms back to the torso. He ran his hand along his waist, guiding the seal back together, except where the shrapnel had ripped through it. When he had reattached the arm pieces the sealant indicator changed to empty, and the gash closed itself. He felt the entire suit suck to his skin.
"Good thing you're as big as you are." It was true. The chest piece hung a little low, and his feet barely stuck out the legs, but all in all, he seemed to fit well into the armor. He felt invincible.
You've just been promoted. Let's get out of here, Chief.
Something about the way she said 'chief.'
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